


what comes next? (was it worth it?)

by LoneSpectre



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Percy Jackson Fusion, Angst, Crack, Dark Percy, F/F, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Percy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Midoriya Hisashi's Bad Parenting, Midoriya Izuku Does Not Have One for All Quirk, Midoriya Izuku Has Swords, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Percy Jackson Needs a Hug, Percy is OoC but he'll eventually grow back into his regular self, Pre-Canon, Quirkless Midoriya Izuku, Soft Percy Jackson, Vigilante Mentor Percy Jackson, Vigilante Midoriya Izuku, percy adopts a child that wants to be a hero and turns them into a terrifying force of nature, pretty much wish fulfillment, with a smidgen of plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28545903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoneSpectre/pseuds/LoneSpectre
Summary: the gods still walk the earth, even centuries after kronos and gaea fell. centuries after the heroes of the millenia fell, all having lived long, fulfilling lives, the gods still walk the earth.a single wrong decision, a single moment of weakness, and the god of heroes walks with them.perseus does not want to face his past and his mistakes, but a young child with dreams too big and a determination outshining his own may force him to.maybe, just maybe, this young boy will be the one to give the god a purpose beyond than living to the next day, and in return, maybe the young god will help the boy achieve his wildest dreams.or maybe it'll all come crashing down.(aka: the one where Percy Jackson, god of heroes, accidentally adopts children with dreams of being heroes, and helps them on their way. and maybe finds himself along the way, after a life leaving him with nothing but regret and guilt.)
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Midoriya Hisashi/Midoriya Inko, Percy Jackson & Midoriya Izuku
Comments: 39
Kudos: 123





	1. the young god

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like it! Please comment down below, and I'm not sure if it counts, but better safe than sorry; cw: depictions of child abuse, domestic abuse, death (at the moment, mentioned only). Percy's backstory... is not happy. It's mostly canon up to TLO, but after that it devolves into a lot of pain very quickly.
> 
> Please comment, I love comments, they're the best!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it, please comment! They're practically my lifeblood :)

Rain was always a welcome distraction for the young god – the frigid downpour would always push many away, similar to him in ways more than one, but there would always be the rare few that sought it out, those that drenched themselves in the icy water, that felt the wind whistling past their face as they sat shivering in the chilled air, revelling in the anonymity it offered. They sat alone in the rain, letting the gentle brush of nature’s hand conceal the tears tracking down their face, hoping that no one would notice, but he would. He would always.

It was on a dreary Friday morning, that he felt such a presence, sitting alone at a filthy beach, heedless of the growing storm. The emotions broiling through him would have been more than enough to catch the god’s attention, considering that they were a raging storm much worse than the one outside the child’s body, but the young god had had an eye on this child for many years. The desires and wishes in his mind, those had marked the child as one of his years ago, when the child's _need_ to help was only just sprouting yet still as bright as any other. Yet, as he examines him closely, he can feel the child's dreams beginning to splutter our. Well, he _cannot_ allow that.

The young god sighs as he pulls himself away from his memories of his earliest years, back when he was but a child, all the mistakes he had made, all the people he had pushed away. He stands and brushes himself off, breathing deeply. He, too, had been sitting alone and reflecting, halfway across the world, and staring out at a different ocean. But he would leave this place of bittersweet memories, this now silent house of lost and broken children, for this young hero who desperately needed some assistance.

Moments later, he found himself staring at the child, sat on the trash heaps in front of him. Logically, he had known that Dagobah Beach was a trash-dump, but even after more than three-hundred years of life, the enormity of mortal’s lack of compassion still sometimes made him feel small in comparison. The young child was seated on a broken bench at the base of one of the larger heaps, and seeing him made the young god still for a second. How young was he, to be dreaming of such things?

Everyone wants to be a hero, far be it from him to end a child’s dreams, but he was only… eleven at most. The thought strikes the young god like a bolt of lightning – had he only been twelve when he learnt what the real world was like? He had been twelve when any dreams of being a hero left him, but how could this child know what reality was like? Far be it from him to end a dream, he has failed _too_ many to fail another.

The child is young, but he is in no way free of the injustices of the world. The child looks disheveled; his white shirt crumpled, burnt, and covered in a thin layer of dirt. The child's cheeks still sport baby fat, and are covered with freckles and dirt, but much more noticeable are the tear marks jutting across them. His green locks are pressed down against his face by the wind and rain, and the eye bags under his shut eyes speak of long hours without sleep. What happened _,_ the young god wondered, that pushed the child here, to the sit in a storm at the edge of the world? He debates just looking through his memories, but it's been a year or two since he spoke to a mortal. He'll figure out why his dreams are dying and why he's sitting alone in the trash himself.

He walks forward, stepping loudly in rippling puddles to alert the child of his presence. It works, and the child looks up in alarm; opening his emerald eyes, so similar and yet so different to the gods, _still so full of life_ , widen in surprise and shock, shadowed by his viridian curls. The young god gives him a rare smile; he doesn’t smile much these years, but he maintains that children deserve to grow up in a happier world than what they are given, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make it that way. He expands his presence to give off a soft, comforting aura as he nears the child.

The child, so full of dreams and hopes and wishes, so full of desire for a thing he thinks he cannot have, is still seated on the bench, so the young god perches on its edge, and sits in silence for a long moment while the child stares at him. Thunder cracks in the distance; uncle disapproves whenever he blesses a mortal, but the young god of heroes cannot find it in himself to care. Ever since the flame of the gods migrated to Japan, and the second age of heroes came to be, there isn’t much the other gods could do to harm him.

“This beach used to be such a beautiful place,” his voice cracks from disuse, but the nostalgia in it is implacable. It had been many years since he came to Dagobah, yet he still remembers meeting with his father here, once, the soft sand between his toes, the sea breeze ruffling his hair. “But now it’s nothing but a trash heap. Tell me, kid, if such an amazing place can turn to this, what’s stopping something else from growing into something greater?” The child keeps his eyes on him, but in them shock, and a sliver of confusion and hope flicker. He’s not in the habit of letting kids have the answer immediately, a lesson in teaching he took from his mentor, so he’ll let this one figure it out on his own. Slowly, he begins to speak, voice still raw from barely concealed crying, “Um… well, nothing, apart from whoever’s working on it, their dedication and talent? I guess?” So _hesitant_ , so scared of being rejected. His voice is soft and quiet; the voice of one who's learnt to keep themselves out of sight, out of mind.

The young god nods, deep in thought. Honestly, he wouldn’t have expected such a response from himself at eleven, but he should have expected it from this one. The child shines brightly in his domain, brighter than all of the others. His spirit’s shine rivals that of powerful Toshinori, that of his efficient Shouta, and even though he is still years away from even applying to becoming a hero the child is a miniature supernova in his peripherals, expanding impossibly fast. And yet, he finds his little star here, sitting alone at the edge of the ocean, lamenting something, hoping like all the rest that the rain will be able to hide their tears.

The rain does a good job of it, but it shouldn’t have to, he thinks.

The two sit in silence for a few more seconds, observing each other. The young god has to resist an urge to wipe away the child's tears and tell him that everything will be alright.

“What’s your name, kid? You’ll catch a cold out here, alone.” He probes, waving a hand and absent-mindedly directing the rain away from them. He swears that the child’s eyes brighten up at that, as he immediately launches into questions, “A hydrokinetic quirk? Or hydrophilic, I don’t think any hydrokinesis quirk could redirect rain, it’s too small and numerous, or at least that’s what my mom said when I asked her if she could and if drops of water counted as small – oh, I’m so sorry,” he cuts himself off, looking legitimately scared. “I – my name is M-midoriya Izuku, nice to meet you.” He stutters out, looking almost like he's expecting to be shouted at.

The young god learned early on, before he even became a god that undirected anger was _never_ helpful, but he cannot stop it from rising in him, for just a moment, before he smashes it down. Children are too perceptive; it wouldn’t do for the little one to think that he’s angry at him.

After all, he knows too well the fear of authority, all-consuming. Childhood is not something he would ever want to relive, especially his own. Unless he could make different choices; he knows what he would do.

Looking back up at the dark, stormy sky, lightning flashing intermittently despite the sun valiantly trying to shine through, he thinks that he should probably get the kid to a cleaner spot, before he actually catches something. And he can’t say he’s not curious to learn more about this one; after all, he’s had his eyes on him ever since he appeared in his domain like a star exploding, a sheer _need_ to help overshadowing everything else in his vision, but this god _tries_ to respect mortal’s privacy.

It’s not uncommon for someone to want to become a hero, not in these times, but to wish and hope as hard as this one had is.

“Well then, Izuku-kun, I’m sure you don't want to get sick, right? Let’s get you somewhere clean. And I’ll answer any questions about my quirk that you want to ask, no need to look so down.” Mentally, the young god swore when he added that last sentence. **Quirks**. How could something be so beneficial and annoying at the same time? Even the gods didn’t know exactly know caused it, although Hecate had hypothesized that the godly power in mortal’s blood had diluted enough for them to access magic on their own. Whatever the reason they developed, it had helped demigods and gods live more peacefully, but making up believable limits to a limitless power was always slightly frustrating. Yet, as he sees the kid’s face perk up at that, he can’t really bring himself to regret it.

Gently, he pulls the child off the bench, and leads him to the edge of the beach, the two sharing a companionable silence as they pick across shards of broken glass and sharp bits of metal; a very important task for the child, and a way to pretend he’s still mortal for the god.

The moment they’ve climbed up the stairs to the mainland, he turns around and asks, “So, what way is your house?” He doesn’t miss how his face falls instantaneously, how his eyes begin to fill with tears, and as he mumbles, “Can we talk about quirks first?”

Slowly, he gets to his knees, and looks the kid in the eyes, bright emerald staring into deep sea-green eyes, older than the city itself. “Kid, why don’t you want to go home?” he asks, his voice as soft as the rain splashing around them, but not inquisitive, not firm, hoping for an innocous answer. He’d like to say he’s good with children, but like everything else in his life, it had come at a cost.

_Watching as his friend’s children grew up, then mourning his friends with their children, watching as their children grow up, mourning them with their children, rinse and repeat, rinse and **repeat**. _

Izuku looks away, ashamed, before he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘dad’. Again, the anger rises in him, but this time it’s more personal, ugly memories rearing to the front of his mind; the sound of bottles breaking, hiding bruises mottled purple and blue from his mother, cigarette smoke choking him every day, the stench of alcohol following him everywhere he walked. He shakes his head, dispelling the thoughts. He hadn’t thought about that man in decades, and he certainly wouldn’t begin now, but he can't help but feel a little bit closer to the child.

“Well, in that case, why don’t we get some food in you, yeah? There’s a nice ramen place nearby, and I’d rather you not stay in the rain and get sick. And we can talk about quirks, I suppose.” He begins walking again, his heels clicking against the pavement as he gestures for Izuku to follow him, expanding his aura to be more comfortable yet again. After a moment, the child runs to catch up, and he seems to have regained some of the light in his eyes. Hands fidgeting excitedly, he asks, “What’s your quirk, sir? It looked to be a form of hydrokinesis, but most hydrokinetic quirks require a lot of concentration, and wouldn't work on individual droplets, considering their size and number. So is it a sort of hydrophilic quirk?” His voice is still soft, but the curiosity and intelligence in it is obvious. For just a moment, he’s reminded of golden curls and wise grey eyes before he pushes that memory away.

His eyes melancholy but voice calm, he responds, “Well, you would be correct in assuming hydrokinesis. I’ve been blessed with a very powerful hydrokinetic quirk. What about you, kiddo?” His lips curl when he calls himself ‘blessed’, if anything, his powers were a curse. Stuck in his thoughts as he is, he barely notices as the child stops walking suddenly.

“I – I don’t have a quirk, sir.” He says, voice soft. The young god understands better, now. Izuku looks away, choosing to stare across the street instead of at the god. “I understand, sir. I’ll be going home now.” So _used_ to rejection that he’ll do it himself and save others the trouble.

The young god shakes his head in muted disbelief, but his actions, his thoughts, his dying dreams make a bit more sense now. He curses himself silently; he should have helped this one much earlier. Of course mortals would hate him for not having powers, when only a century ago they hated those with powers. He's not going to let this child's dreams die to a set-back as small as _this_. Even if he has to train him himself.

“What does not having a quirk do with anything? Get back here, kid. We’re still getting you some ramen.” He says, his voice hopefully calm and not betraying the rage building inside him, at the people who have failed this child. Hopefully indifference would be better than showing pity or shock, he thinks. The child turns, face carefully painted in a neutral expression, but he can still see the slight disbelief underneath it. Slowly, like approaching an easily startled cat, the child walks back to him. The pair continue walking for a bit more, reaching the street with the store the god prefers before either of them say another word, but he can sense the confusion of the child clearly.

“What’s your name, sir?” the child asks, eyes sharp, almost distrustful. Good, he was wondering how long the godly aura would distract the child from realizing he was talking to and following a stranger. He supposes that the aura _is_ a bit distracting, but he can't believe he somehow didn't notice that he hadn't given the kid a name. He hums quietly, thinking.

“You can call me Percy.” he says, the long-forgotten nickname ringing in the wind, washing through the empty city alongside the rain, resonating in both of their hearts. It's a signal; of a new era for both the young god and the young hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Percy became a god at the end of the Last Olympian. Everyone's dead now, his life with Annabeth will be explained in his backstory but it wasn't too great, and he's known as the god of heroes now. He doesn't have any kids or affairs like other gods. He's also a bit OoC, but to be fair, it's how I assumed he'd be after living a bit more than 300 years, watching everyone he loved die, and still not being able to do anything because he was a god, and while Percy rebelling against the rules will be part of his backstory, it will be just a bit too late. Also, might've based his look on Zhongli from Genshin, since his story was also kind of a catalyst for this. Immortality sucks.
> 
> Strange dream turned to this. My fantasy au is still the focus, this probably will be updated slightly more often, but the chapters will be much shorter. 
> 
> Also, thoughts on another idea I had, very crackish; Percy and Annabeth fall into chaos in Tartarus, but he's pretty chill, asks them to go deal with a few other universes problems for him and he'll deal with Gaia. Mostly crack, just percabeth fix-it-ing any universe from A:TLA, BNHA, GOT, etc. Might write that at some point, but anyone else is free to do it too! just credit if you do.


	2. son of vulcan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw : warnings for domestic abuse, child abuse, and death (only mentioned, though)
> 
> Hope you like it! Please comment!

The restaurant was quaint and cosy, and Percy lead Izuku into a corner stall after ordering two bowls of ramen, the cool orange glow of the lights washing over the pair. Izuku sat next to the window, glad to still be close to the soft pitter-patter of the rain that was creating a symphony with the cool jazz music playing in the cafe. He had always loved the rain; it was comforting yet cold, sudden yet unyielding, and whenever it graced Musutafu he always made time to sit and reflect in the rain for some time. This time, he wasn’t sitting in the rain out of any love for it, however. This time, he just wanted a quiet place to cry in.

But then, _Percy_ had appeared.

The man reminded him of the rain, almost. Sudden and comfortable, in its own _unique_ way. But then he had spoken to him, and hadn’t left even after learning Izuku was quirkless, and he still bought him food for his grumbling stomach, and Izuku was left wondering when exactly Percy would disappear, just like the rain would.

Izuku took a moment to study the man as he stared out the window, seemingly lost in thought. He was tall and slim, seemingly muscular, and very obviously foreign, but he spoke Japanese without a problem, even if he did throw some English idioms in. His hair was long and wavy, tied up in a _long_ ponytail at the base of his nape. He had an earring hanging from his left ear, a silver depiction of an owl holding what looked like a trident. He was wearing a crumpled white dress shirt under an expensive looking loose jacket that looked like it couldn't decide between black and blue, and soft dark gloves with deep blue palms covered his hands. He was the epitome of rich and careless, at least until you looked at his eyes.

They were swirling with colour, every shade of green mixing with others to create a mesmerizing effect. And they were so, _so_ old, and so strangely ethereal. It didn’t take more than a glance for Izuku to know that the man had seen _things_ Izuku couldn't imagine. He couldn’t put a single word to his eyes, probably not even a whole paragraph, but if he had to, he would say that they seemed regretful and mourning beyond belief. But they told _stories_ in their unfathomable depths. You didn't need to look him in the eyes for long to know that he was kind, that he was humble, that he was _powerful_.

The man's face reminded Izuku of a statue, sculpted by a master. It seemed that his default expression was nostalgic, as he kept a gloved hand on his chin, running it through his salt-and-pepper beard as he stared out the window, his eyes swirling like miniature whirlpools.

After a few moments, the food arrived. Izuku wolfed his down; he hadn’t even realized how hungry he was after – after dad kicked him out. Izuku wondered whether he should tell Percy; after all, he didn’t leave yet? He might be willing to help - or would that be too much? After all, he already knew that he was quirkless, and while he didn’t seem to care, Izuku’s met people like that in the past. They cared as much as the others, but just hid it better. Besides, it's only been two days, and Izuku still had a bit of money, and it's not like he _wants_ to go back to him. To burns and bruises. He'll be fine, even if Percy doesn't help, right?

It didn't matter in the end, because Izuku didn’t have to ask. Once his food was done was safely down his gullet, Percy turned to Izuku, his face holding the slightest bit of anger, hidden in the tightening of the skin around his eyes, and Izuku stilled. Percy noticed obviously, because he gave him a small, soft smile, and asked out-of-the-blue, “Are you safe at home?”

Izuku ended up gaping like a fish for a few moments as he thought of what to say. In the end, he settled for a simple, “I don’t have a home.” although he said it more like a question. Percy’s hand clenched into a fist.

“Let me guess, your father kicked you out because you’re quirkless? Where’s your mother, kiddo?” Izuku wondered how he knew it was his father, and why he spits out the word with such animosity, but he supposes he did stutter out ‘dad’ when asked the first time, at the beach. As for his mother… he doesn’t really want to talk about that, but he finds himself speaking anyways, desperate for someone to _understand_. “Mom died a f-few months b-back, so d-d-dad had to take care of me, but he doesn’t w-want to,” he says, the tears already pouring out. Percy hands him a tissue wordlessly, and whispers a few choice curse words under his breath that Izuku does not think he should be listening to.

*****

Percy still remembers what he felt like when Mom died. Shouting and screaming at Hades in his throne room, massive storms ripping apart the world for days, until Thalia forced him to calm down, bless her. No matter how _many_ he loses, it hurts the same every time.

All the other gods say it gets easier.

Does he want it to?

“Any relatives, kiddo? Anyone who’d take you in?” he inquired, having calmed down just a bit.

“N-no… I guess Auntie Mitsuki, but I don’t want t-to go l-live there.” Izuku said, rubbing his eyes dry.

Percy supposes that he has his reasons for not wanting to _live_ there _,_ but he really needs someone to watch the kid while he deals with the ‘father’, and isn’t in the mood to ask any of his relatives. He _could_ look around for a demigod and ask for a favour, since they’ve gotten much more numerous after the dawn of quirks, but that’s not always easy. Maybe he could call Thalia? No, she’s in Argentina at the moment. The einherjar? Not exactly safe to leave a mortal with them, in his opinion.

“Would you be okay staying with your Auntie just for a few hours, while I go and have a _chat_ with your dad?” Izuku’s eyes widened, “No, no, please, dad’s dangerous!” he all but shouts out, remembering at the last second they’re in a restaurant. Thankfully, it’s mostly empty, apart from the cashier who looks like he really wants to call CPS.

“Trust me, kid, I’ll be fine." Percy has to stop himself from laughing out loud, but he's glad that the kids got an eye out for him. "How about we drop you off at your Auntie’s first, yeah? She won’t hurt you, right?” Plans are slowly forming in Percy's mind; puzzle pieces fitting together. It's been centuries, and he finally has an _idea_ of what to do, where to go, who to do it with. And all he had to do was speak to his little star. Whether it makes him want to cry, or laugh, he can't really say.

Percy would pay to see Zeus’ face when he realizes that Percy’s adopting a mortal child. The next solstice will be… _interesting_ , to say the least. It’s not like they could stop him, anyways. And they _should_ know better than to hurt the kid. After all, harming the adoptive son of the god of righteous rage? Not a smart idea.

Percy can’t say he’s doing this _just_ out of the goodness of his heart. The kid reminds him painfully of old memories; of himself, of Nico, of Jason, of Hazel. Of someone who just wanted to help others, no matter what anyone else said. Dammit if he won’t help the kid, someone has to. 

“I suppose I’d be fine with staying at Auntie's?” Izuku says meekly, phrasing it more like a question.

“Perfect, then. I’ve got a car. Think you can direct me to her house?” Percy says, gesturing out the door at a blue sedan parked outside that was definitely not there ten seconds ago. Thankfully, Izuku doesn’t seem to question it.

***

Percy had tried to draw Izuku into conversation about this Bakugou Mitsuki along the drive, but it had been short and clipped. He gleaned that Mitsuki was good friends with his mother, but Izuku wasn’t good friends with her son, a boy he called Kacchan. She was married to a man named Masaru, who Izuku liked more. Her house wasn't that far away, and they reached the Bakugou’s villa after a short fifteen or so minute drive. The house itself was nice, giving Percy ideas for his own if he was really adopting the kid. Two-story, modern architecture; Anna - _she_ would have liked it. He admires it quietly, ignoring his mind bringing up things he'd rather not hear of. The sky is clear of clouds; Percy had dismissed the storm on the drive here.

Percy thinks that he’ll have to talk to Chiron about the adoption – he could bring Izuku into the Japanese Camp Half-Blood, but he doesn’t think Izuku would do well in a community of demigods. Still, Chiron would be able to give him good advice on taking care of kids, and he hasn't seen his mentor in a few decades. Actually, Percy hasn't spoken to any immortals in a long time. The last time was - Uncle Hades, almost fourteen years ago. Well, time flies, he supposes.

He raps on the door curtly, one hand on Izuku’s trembling shoulder. He sighs; it’s not that he doesn’t trust the kid, but he’ll have to confirm this place is safe for him before he leaves to see his ‘father’. As he raises his hand to knock again, the door opens to reveal a middle-aged woman, her face set in a scowl. Thankfully, when her crimson eyes fall on Izuku, it melts away, revealing a large, happy smile.

“Izuku!” she shouts. “Where have you been, kiddo! C’mon in!” An admirable but easy to see through effort to distract the kid of his mother’s death, considering her forced smile and tight eyes. In any case, there’s more important things for him to be doing. He takes a quick swipe through her memories; yeah, she's good enough to Izuku, if a _bit_ loud and boisterous. Her son isn't... the _best_ , though. Percy'll have to give him a talk, or just move Izuku away, but something will definitely have to be done about that brat.

“Ahem. He’ll be safe with you, I hope? I need to ‘speak’ with his father,” Percy says, putting up air quotes. The blonde looks him up and down, before asking, “And who the hell are you?” a faint sneer on her face.

“Just a friend. I need to speak to Izuku’s father; could you do us a favour and keep him safe till then, yeah?” he asks, eyes pleading.

“So you’re one of Hisashi’s friends?” she asks, her voice dripping with venom.

“Hardly,” he says, bemused. He pulls out his wallet and gives her a card. “I actually work with CPS.” Benefits of being a god, number 1 : able to pull out necessary documentation with a flick of the hand. Hell, he won’t even have to go through the adoption process at all; he could just pull out magical documentation that says Izuku's under his guardianship.

Shaking his head, he focuses back on the pair. Izuku looks like the card in Mitsuki’s hands is the answer to all of his questions, while Mitsuki looks thankfully more trusting. As he takes the card back, he leans closer and lowers his voice, “I’ll be coming back to pick him up in a few hours, at the most. In case Izuku doesn't tell you, his father kicked him out, and he'll be serving time if I can do anything about it. Don’t worry, Izuku won’t be going to an orphanage, or back to his father, but please, take care of him until I return.” With that, he turns and walks back to his car, cracking his knuckles. Behind him, Mitsuki seems to be a moment away from getting her car and going after Hisashi herself, but she doesn't need to worry about a thing. Percy's got that covered.

Time to have a chat with Midoriya Hisashi.

***

The sleazy apartment building he drives up to is a stark contrast to the Bakugou’s villa. Percy wonders whether he should leave Izuku with the Bakugou's, but something about them doesn’t feel _right_ to him, other than the obvious brat, of course. He’s learnt to trust his gut over the years, and something in his gut tells him that Izuku needs more than just a nice place to live. He needs support, assistance, training, someone who can tell him that _’he can do it’_ , someone who can see the drive and determination he has and help it grow into something more. Percy’s happy to provide.

While he did enjoy the hour long drive to the apartment, Percy’s grown a bit lazy after becoming a god, so he pops up to the Midoriya family residence. Not much of a family anymore, he thinks dejectedly. He doesn’t bother with knocking on the door this time, instead just kicking it down, splinters of wood flying into the house. There’s a gaggle of middle-aged men sitting at a table across the room, a poker game and beer set around them and the faint smell of smoke lingering in the drab room despite there not being a lit cigarette in sight. His gut lurches at the similarities, but he fights through it. They all stand, startled at the sudden intrusion.

Putting on his best scary voice, which he’s been told by many people is absolutely terrifying, he asks, “My name is Detective Jackson. Which one of you is Midoriya Hisashi?” The speed with which they all point a finger at one man, a carbon copy of Izuku with black hair is astonishing. “Midoriya Hisashi, you are under arrest for the mistreatment of one Midoriya Izuku. You have the right to remain silent. The rest of you may leave.” He says forcefully, giving the other players one of his signature wolf stares as he walks forward, pulling a pair of handcuffs out from his jacket pocket. They almost knock each other over in their haste to get out.

Still seemingly scared shitless from the entrance, and aware of who, or rather _what_ , he's looking at, Hisashi doesn’t offer much of a fight. His friends are out of the house without too much hassle, but they're gossiping the moment they're in the stairwell, wondering whether 'Hisashi will actually go to prison for getting rid of a quirkless shitstain?'.

Percy isn’t actually going to arrest Hisashi, though, although he is thinking about sucker-punching the bastard that said that. Percy has worse punishments in place for this son of Vulcan.

He guides the handcuffed man to an empty seat, after all of his 'friends' leave, and sits down across from him, waiting for him to speak. The silence drags on for at least ten minutes, Hisashi still as a statue, sweat dripping across his face despite the chilled room, before either speaks. His voice chock-full of fear, Hisashi states, “You’re a god.”

Percy was never a fan of when people were afraid of him, however, this is a case in which really doesn’t mind it,. He does care about most mortal’s boundaries, but when he had to power to sift through Izuku’s memories and see what his father was really like, it would have been stupid of him not to use it.

He didn’t like what he saw. If Percy's being honest, it's taking everything in him to not smite the demigod in front of him. Percy fears that when he see's Izuku's plain body, it'll be covered in burn scars, all courtesy of this disgusting man. Now, as he sorted through Hisashi's memories, the man is even worse than Izuku's mind had shown. He was a serial cheater, a terrible offense to the god of loyalty. Even worse, the bastard was frequently physically abusive to his wonderful wife, even leading up to her death from... cancer? Percy's heart goes out to Izuku. His mother had seemed like a wonderful woman, and she acted almost like a more emotional version of his own mother; kind, determined, and wearing her heart on her sleeve.

At the very least, one good thing that came from Hisashi was that he was a son of Vulcan, making Izuku a Roman legacy, surprisingly. He thought he had sensed some godly blood in him, but most mortals had some these days. While Izuku's heritage would give the young god some lee-way amongst his peers if he adopted him, it still filled Percy with rage that even a demigod would abandon their child for something that they couldn't control. It reminded him of his early days, before the laws were changed and gods finally allowed to parent their children, decades too late to save most of their lives.

It reminded him of the feeling of being alone, of hoping for a parent to hold his hand, someone to _teach_ him, someone to _love_ him, something that was thrown away by the gods, leaving him alone in the world. It fills him with an _indescribable rage_ , that a father would abandon his child like he was trash.

All these centuries after his birth, people forget that Perseus was the god of many things. Heroes were often quoted as his greatest domain, and while it was not wrong, the rest were just as important to him.

He was the god of the aftermath.

The god of guilt and regret and suffering, the god of healing from invisibe wounds, the god of storms.

The god of loyalty.

The god of righteous _rage_.

There were other gods who dabbled in rage, in future, but Perseus was the one who held these domains with a care for humanity, not for the gods.

Ares would give soldiers the ability to fight endlessly with no care of what it did to them afterwards, the Moirai would care only for life and death and nothing in between. Apollo predicted the future,  Atë and Oizys were the incarnations of guilt and grief and plagued humanity with their domains.

Perseus was the one who gave humans rage as a scalpel instead of a hammer, who helped eased guilt and regret, who visited those who still suffered from battles fought decades ago. He was the god of ‘what came next’, what happened to the living after a battle, after love, after war, after rain, after death, over all. And he had a _feeling_ , that whatever was coming next, would not be pretty for Midoriya Hisashi.

“You've got good senses." Percy sighed, "My name is Perseus.” Hisashi blanched. “You know who I am. Good. You should know that the gods have their ways, son of Vulcan. To think that you would abandon your own son so readily for something he couldn’t control?” Perseus’ rage was growing, but he was _not_ going to kill the demigod. Others would have struck him down long ago, but he was the god of suffering. He may have helped others through their suffering and eased their guilt, but that didn’t mean that he did not know how to make others suffer, make them feel guilt. For once, Percy really did _enjoy_ the growing look of fear on the mortal's face. It was surprisingly relishing.

He pulled a ticket out of his jacket, and waved it in front of Hisashi’s face, forming out of stardust in front of both of their eyes. “This – this, my friend, is a ticket to America. It leaves in six hours. Take your dagger, and that’s it. No luggage. If you return to Japan or leave America before, say, ten years, I’ll kill you myself.” If it was possible for Hisashi’s face to get paler, it did.

The main reason that demigod population had boomed in Japan was that the monsters hadn’t followed the flame of the gods here. They were still stuck in America, for an unknown reason.

Everyone else In Japan cheered and was overjoyed, but Percy knew better. He had orchestrated some of the greatest battles of the past millennia, after all. They were gearing up, letting their numbers rise back to the maximum after the massive losses they took in the early 2000’s.

They were part of the reason that villainy and danger were so high in America, considering that most of the U.S’s most dangerous villains were actually Greek monsters.

Sending Hisashi there was not much more than a delayed execution, and Hades wouldn't ask for an explanation later either. Not to mention, the poor monsters don't have many demigods to hunt anymore. Percy guarantees that they'll take their sweet time with him; after all, they don't want to waste their _generous_ gift, do they?

Percy grinned wickedly, but there was guilt hidden in it. Perhaps he truly had become a god, after he had _promised_ her not to.

It’s been many, many years since that, though. If Percy can really only find some joy in giving retribution to those who deserve it, then let him. It’s not like his life has ever had much joy in it in the first place.

“Now get out of my sight,” the young god said tonelessly, unlocking Hisashi’s handcuffs.

Standing, he pops away, back to the street of the Bakugou household.

He can faintly hear a _lot_ of angry screaming coming from inside, and he distractedly wonders whether he _really_ should have left Izuku with them. His rage is slowly melting away, his cold anger shifting to quiet regret at his actions, but he hopes that he can get Izuku out of there without accidentally hurting any mortals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope Percy's choices of domains make sense. After all, he hasn't had the easiest life, and I would say that a gods domains are made over time, not just granted immediately. After becoming a god, the things he held dearest were helping others through the aftermath of the war, of easing their guilt and suffering. Also, I know there are other gods of these things but they're the personifications of them, as in they're mean to humans, while Percy is the concept of working through your guilt, and helpful to humans.
> 
> Also, monsters + LoV attack at once? That'll be fun, even if you do have a rogue god with no care for the rules on your side.


	3. start a blaze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw : bullying. I think this counts, even if Izuku and Katsuki don't really interact that much.
> 
> Hope you like it, I've got a fair idea of where I want this story to go! It'll be seperated into two parts; pre-canon that will focus more on vigilantism and PJO side of the fic, and the canon which will just be mostly normal with an incredibly skilled Izuku, an overprotective god as a dad, lots of swords, and frequent monster attacks. If I ever get there. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you like it, please comment down below any and all criticism! <3

Shaking his head, Percy followed the pathway towards the house, simultaneously marvelling at both the Bakugou’s powerful sound cancelling and the sheer volume of the screams cancelling out the sound cancelling. Percy himself has never been a fan of people who were loud just because they could be; it reminded him too much of the gods back when he was a child. Throwing tantrums because they knew nothing could harm them. He has a feeling that he won’t be a fan of whoever it is screaming in that house.

He debates on just warping into the house, considering that he’ll probably have to tell Izuku he’s a god at some point, but decides against it. In this world of unfathomable superpowers, he’ll probably be put off as a megalomaniac if tries to tell a mortal that he’s a _god_. Better to wait until he can prove it in a way that doesn’t include threatening someone with death. Percy smirks as he remembers the time his father had dragged him out for ‘bonding time’ alongside his uncles, and some police officer tried to arrest Zeus for unlawful quirk usage. It took a lot of work to stop Zeus from smiting the poor man, mostly because dad and Uncle Hades didn't help, instead standing off to the side laughing their asses off. Percy didn't think he'd ever heard Hades laugh before then.

Schooling his face into a neutral expression and pushing away his memories, he raps on the door loudly. Surprisingly, the screaming stops, and Percy can hear loud footsteps slowly approaching the door. Someone swings the door wide-open, and Percy comes face-to-face with a miniature male Mitsuki. The kid’s eyes are smouldering with animosity, and he wastes no time before screaming in Percy’s face.

“EH! You’re the fucker that brought Izuku here, aren’t you!? Fucking hell, I’m surprised you came back. Take the quirkless shitstain and get out of here.” The blond spits Izuku's name like it hurts him to say.

Percy breathes deeply, already regretting leaving Izuku here. He’s _not_ going to shout at an eleven year old, no matter how much of a dirty mouth they have, or how much quirkist propaganda’s been drilled into their heads.

Gently, he pushes past the kid, ignoring his shouts, inviting himself into the Bakugou household. He keeps his hands in his pant pockets as he stalks through the house, walking to the back, where he can sense Izuku’s supernova, rebuilding itself slowly. Even at its worst, Izuku’s spirit's brightness had never dropped below any of the others in his domain, still dwarfing the rest.

Walking through an ajar door into a large living room, Percy finds Izuku sitting on the couch, seemingly being consoled by Mitsuki and a middle-aged man setting the table with mouth-watering bowls of katsudon. Izuku visibly perks when Percy walks in the room, but he flinches when the kid trails in after him, his palms sparkling and crackling. Percy tilts his head. By mortal standards, that’s a _very_ powerful power.

“You’re back already? What about that bastard?” Mitsuki asks, springing to her feet. Her eyes hold thinly veiled anger, and Percy assumes she's been wringing information out of Izuku.

“He’s been dealt with.” Percy says, giving her a self-satisfied smirk, not missing how Izuku’s mouth parts in shock. “Now, I have a few things to say to the two of you, regarding Izuku.” He begins, motioning to Mitsuki and he assumes Masaru.

“Eh? Why'd you wanna talk about this fucker?” the blond brat says, having plopped on a couch with his feet up in the air and completely ignoring Izuku. Izuku keeps glancing at him with legitimate fear in his eyes, and Percy is seriously reconsidering his ‘always be nice to children’ rule.

Percy sighs, and looks towards the two parents. Unsurprisingly, they look ashamed but still resigned to their son’s behaviour, although Mitsuki looks like she's restraining herself from shouting at him.

Personally, he's stuck between both blaming and pitying them; it's obvious that they don't like the path their son is going, but society would do everything to push him down it, although they could do a _bit_ more to hold him back.

Walking forward, Percy begins speaking, “I’ve known quirkless people before.” An understatement; a lot of the people he’s been close to have been quirkless, considering they died before quirks even developed. “I’m also able to adopt, have the funds to support a child and am well aware of the problems he will face in his daily life. At the moment, it’s unlikely that anyone else would be ‘willing’ to adopt Izuku, sadly.”

If Izuku wasn’t shocked before, he certainly is now. The same goes for the other three inhabitants of the room.

“I – You mean it? You’d adopt me?” The hesitation and fear mixed with hope in Izuku’s voice is unmistakeable, and tugs at Percy’s heartstrings harder than it should.

Smiling softly, Percy states, “Of course, only if you wish.”

“Now, wait a moment here, what if we wanted to adopt him?” the brown-haired man began, looking slightly frustrated and suspicious.

“Apologies, but if Izuku didn’t feel safe coming here when his father kicked him out, and if I had to convince him to stay here for a few hours while I went to talk to his father, I do not believe that your household would be a good fit for him.” Percy said, his voice taking on a regretful tone.

“Well, if the fucker wants to make a mistake like that, why would we stop him?”

“Point proven. But, let’s leave it up to Izuku, hm?” Percy rubs his temples. The brat really is getting on his nerves, and he doesn’t want to lose his cool. Everyone in the room turns to look at Izuku, who looks immensely uncomfortable at the attention.

“I – I think I would want to stay with Percy-san.” He managed to stutter out, his eyes flicking to the younger blond every now and again.

The Bakugous look rather hurt, apart from the kid, but Percy might've manipulated the Mist just a slight bit to let them accept it easier. He really has to thank Hazel for teachi- well, maybe on his next trip to Elysium. Which reminds him, he really should visit soon. Or - probably not. It usually leads to bad situations whenever he goes. He might go just to meet up with Frank and Hazel and Leo and Jason, and try to avoid the rest. Wait, Izuku first, plans later.

“In any case, Izuku, we have places to go. And Mrs. Bakugou, here’s my number. If you ever need to meet Izuku, just call.” Percy hands her slip of paper, and she nods robotically. Well, Percy can’t say that he’s ever had a gentle hand with the Mist, despite Hazel’s best efforts.

Percy motions for Izuku to follow him out of the building, and he does, staring incredulously at the suddenly silent family as they leave.

Now, while Percy could just pull the papers out of thin air, he should probably at least stick it in legal records that he’s adopting Izuku, so that puts the police station on top of their list of places to go. But first, an explanation. After all, he thinks Izuku's close to figuring it out on his own.

Strapping himself into the car that Percy just materialized before leaving the building, Izuku is strangely quiet. He remains quiet as Percy drives all the way back to Dagobah. It’s hard to think that he met his little supernova only about three or four hours ago. Percy’d probably kill for this kid at this point. Parking at a spot along the beachfront that has a good view of the ocean, Percy gets out of the car, Izuku trailing behind him.

They lean on the railing high above the beach, watching the sun shine on the blue water, listening as the waves lap onto the shore. “What do you know of the Roman gods, Izuku?” He is a Roman legacy, so hopefully he’ll have an easier time understanding it from the Roman side. Perseus is worshipped the same, as Greek or Roman. That had come in handy during the Second Gigantomachy; Percy had fought alongside the demigods then, when the rest of the gods could not. He doesn’t have many good memories of that time; that had been the beginning of his world shattering.

“Not much. They were a religion practiced by the Roman Empire, but much of the traditions and even the gods themselves have been lost to time.” Izuku’s eyes are scrunched up, a face Percy is coming to realize means he’s thinking hard, but the way he's staring at Percy is indecipherable.

“What if I told you that the Roman gods were real, and that they still walked among us today?” Percy stares out at the ocean, his mind running back to his first meeting with Mr. D, the stunned disbelief, the shock and awe and _fear_.

Izuku looks at him, but it’s with none of those things. It's almost like he expected it. “You’re a god.”

Percy’s not too surprised. The boy’s proven himself to be smart, and he _would_ have an easier time believing it; it’s in his genes, after all. But still, he huffs out a laugh. The kid’s… _refreshing_.

“How’d you figure it out, kiddo?” Percy keeps his eyes firmly on the horizon, the waves so calm when they had been storming hours ago. He wonders if his father is watching. Maybe he should ask him for parenting advice too.

“You – you just give off a vibe?” Percy breaks away from the ocean to raise an eyebrow at the kid, but he doesn’t falter. “Just, like, you feel _old_.”

Percy blinks. “I’m going to take that as a compliment, thank you. But aren’t you going to ask for proof, or anything?” Surprise seems to be his primary emotion around this kid.

“I believe you, kind of. I mean, I was beginning to think you weren't human, maybe somehow magic, but a god makes sense, sort of. A demonstration wouldn’t be too bad, though. But then, why – why would you try to adopt _me_? Wh – what’d you to my dad?” He doesn’t seem too concerned about his father’s fate, just curious.

“Your father’s fine, mostly. Whether he stays that way is entirely dependent on him. As for why I'm adopting you," Percy pauses. "You remind me of my friends when I was young. And you don't deserve the world you were given, nor the way you were treated, so I'm going to do my best to give you better." He ends his little spiel by giving Izuku's shoulder a squeeze. That's a dad move, right? In any case, Izuku looks stunned. He gapes like a fish for a few silent moments, before shaking his head frantically.

"Okay. Okay. I - okay. I - you can't be real." he says in disbelief, trying to convince himself that Percy's an illusion. Percy would laugh at his disbelief, if his heart wasn't breaking at the fact he couldn't believe someone would want to care about him. Obviously, the scars of quirklessness cut deeper than he thought.

Still, he smiles softly at him. "I'm certainly real, Izuku."

Izuku sets his mouth into a thin line, determined. "Prove it, then." His eyes are blazing with a fire that wasn't there moments ago.

"Alright, then. Brace yourself, kiddo.”

Percy raises his hand, and reality _breaks_.

Izuku stumbles back in shock, as the world around them _shatters_. The ground below him falls away, crumbling to dust, and so does Izuku, falling into a deep inky void, the beginnings of a terrified scream forming on his tongue. Not a moment later, he finds himself standing on thin air, miles above the sky. Feet resting on nothing, the cold wind cuts into his face, but he stands tall in the sky, watching the clouds flow beneath him. He can see all of Japan from up here, the curvature of Earth clearly defined, but he's having no trouble breathing. He stares at the coast, so small he could blot it out with his thumb, and searches for the place he was standing seconds ago. It's... _exhilarating_. Is this what it's like to fly, he wonders. However, the moment passes, and suddenly he's back at Dagobah, standing at the edge of the beach next to Percy, gulping in the sea breeze. Percy looks different now that Izuku _knows_ he's not human. The otherworldly aspects of him, which he passed off as just a strange aura, slap him in the face, screaming. His clothes shift colour, his eyes are deep pools of warmth and regret, his hair curls in the wind even when there is none, he smells like the ocean itself.

“Apologies if that was too rough.” Percy is sitting in the water, looking perfectly at home. He gestures for Izuku to join him, and Izuku stumbles over, sinking to his knees in the tides, barely noticing that he’s dry, even as he submerges in the ocean.

“No, no, that was – that was awesome!” Percy probably didn’t expect that, if the amused look in his eyes means anything.

“So – you really are a god,” Izuku barely knows how to deal with the fact that gods exist, much less that one wants to _adopt_ him. “I suppose I am. My name is Perseus, the god of heroes. And the reason that I took an interest in you, Izuku, that I felt your presence in Dagobah, is that I felt your dream of being a hero dying.”

“You’re the god of heroes.” Izuku doesn’t believe it. “Yes, I am.” Perc-Perseus raises an eyebrow at him.

“But – but why?" Izuku can't seem to understand, "Why would the god of heroes take an interest in a quirkless **deku** like me?” Izuku asks, his voice confused and almost angry near the end, both at the world and himself. It seems like the past few hours have been nothing but his world being flipped over again and again.

Perseus’ eyes narrow, the lines around them tightening, and his mouth draws into a thin line. Izuku’s coming to see that as his ‘angry’ face, and now that he knows the man is a _god_ , he’s beginning to fear it.

“Tell me, kid. What does 'deku' mean?” His voice is clipped and rough, but firm.

His stutter returning, Izuku responds, “W-well, it’s an al-alternate reading of I-Izuku. It m-means use-useless.” At that, Perseus’ eyes _blaze_ , his irises practically lighting up, and he clenches his fists. Resigned, Izuku closes his eyes, and prays. To what, he doesn’t know, considering that a god is sitting in front of him.

“Kiddo.” Perseus’ voice is calmer than before, but Izuku keeps his head down, and eyes closed. “Kid, look at me.” Izuku raises his face, and looks at Perseus. The god’s face is calm, his incomprehensible eyes no longer shining oppressively. “I will **never** hurt you. Do you understand? **Never**.”

Izuku nods frantically.

“I’m not letting this go, however.” Seeing how Izuku’s eyes widen, Perseus waves his hand. “Not in that I’m angry at you, Izuku. Just at whoever gave you that name.” He returns to staring at the ocean, and Izuku wonders whether he should tell him who. “You don’t need to tell me, but you should know that you don’t have to listen to them. They're as wrong as they can be.” As Izuku raises his head in shock, wondering whether gods could read minds, Perseus chuckles heartily and says, “No, you’re just speaking your mind without realizing.” Izuku’s fairly sure he’s blushing down to his bones.

The two of them stay like that for many moments. Izuku supposes that gods can’t have too many quiet moments like this, so he sits next to him, relaxing in the sand as the water laps his toes. Eventually, though, the god stands.

“I am going to adopt you, Izuku. This isn't some sort of trick. First things first, let’s go to our new house and have a long overdue conversation on _why_ exactly you can and are going to be a hero, and then we can finalize the adoption at the station, hm?”

Izuku isn’t sure that he heard him right.

“Come again?”

Perseus turns to him with a vicious glint in his eyes. “All those people that thought that a quirkless person can’t be a hero? You and I are going to prove them wrong. After all, you’re going to be being trained by the god of heroes himself. You sure you’re up to it?”

Izuku doesn’t waste any time.

“Yes, sir!” he screams, tears already beginning to stream down his face.

"None of that 'sir' stuff, kid. The name's Percy, don't forget it." the young god says, a genuine, unintended smile gracing his face for the first time in decades, at the sight of the overjoyed child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter : Izuku and Percy move in to their house, Izuku gets a good pep-talk, maybe we'll meet a lie-detecting detective and insomniac hobo if i can fit it in, otherwise that'll be chapter 5 :D
> 
> Hope you like it! I'm not really a fan of early Bakugou, and I'm not that great at writing him and Mitsuki/Masaru's dynamic, but eventually he will get redeemed, although that little plotline will be very painful for the blondie. He's just a toxic brat at the moment, no suicide-baiting yet, thankfully.
> 
> Might have an ignorant demigod in the police station scene, haven't decided yet. After all, they don't need to know they're demigods anymore, what with the monsters recruiting in America.
> 
> Please comment, love y'all!


	4. fan the flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw : nothing, I think
> 
> the beginning of percy-izuku father-son fluff!

The house was grand. Honestly, that was pretty much the only word to describe it. Even Percy was surprised by it's grandeur, and he was the one who _bought_ it. The realtor’s eyes had _literally_ bugged out when Percy offered three times the asking price for immediate transferral of ownership, leaving both Percy and Izuku wondering whether it was his quirk or just reality finally breaking down. Thankfully, Percy had somehow cleaned Izuku of all the dirt and healed his burns when he had warped him, so Izuku wasn't too out of place standing behind the young god, still _very_ nauseous from the warping. Izuku quietly stared down the list of houses, privately marvelling at their designs. It hadn’t taken long for them to decide on a house; near enough to the centre of Musutafu, and in a good neighbourhood.

Percy pushed through the cast-iron gate; a bit squeaky, nothing that he couldn’t fix with some hard work! After all, maybe he could try out life as a mortal again. It _had_ been a while. Izuku followed after him, his head swivelling on a pivot as he tried to pick out every detail of the house. Finally alone again, having kicked off the realtor, he began muttering, hoping that Percy wouldn’t mind, “Gothic architecture? I think? It’s certainly unique, the rest of the houses in the neighbourhood were modern, but the spires are reminiscent of other architectural styles too. Maybe an amalgamation, it’s certainly recently built, probably this century. What are your thoughts, Percy?” He turned to the god, not noticing the pain concealed in his gaze as he gave Izuku a weak smile. “It’s… a nice house, kiddo. Architecture isn’t my strong point.”

“Oh! I know a lot, I can teach you some if you want!” Izuku was just glad to be able to give something back to Percy, but the slight furrowing of his brows showed him that he probably didn’t want to talk about architecture, for some reason. “Ah, it’s fine, kiddo.” Percy kept his eyes firmly away from the tall spires and unique designs adorning the building, forcing himself to think of other topics.

They walked through the massive double doors together, into a strangely massive but cosy hall, already furnished with comfortable couches, bean-bags, and whatever else Percy’s imagination deemed fit to throw in there. Izuku’s eyes widened at the massive high-definition television, the fully stocked kitchen, the grand, spiralling staircase leading to their bedrooms, the large balconies, but what he marvelled at the most during their exploration of the house, was the _training room_.

Percy had eyed the large room with a critical gaze and deemed it fit for use, an assortment of weapon racks suddenly appearing in a corner. He told him that soon, this was where Izuku would learn to fight and prepare to become a Hero. Izuku wanted nothing more, although the doubt was returning to him, in moments like this. Once they had crawled through the entire house, with some rooms having seemingly no purpose, and a random workshop that Percy had said Izuku would probably like, they stopped to rest in the kitchen, where Percy asked whether Izuku was hungry. Lunchtime had passed a few hours ago, so Izuku nodded, and Percy stood to rummage through the cupboards.

Removing a variety of disparate ingredients and setting them on the counter, Percy stood in the middle of the wooden floor with his arms crossed, staring at them. He stood there for a few moments, wracking his brain, before Izuku spoke up, “Do you… know how to cook?”

Percy’s shoulders slumped, and he turned to Izuku slowly. “Maybe you want to try out a recipe you know?” He diverted, eyes pleading.

Izuku stifled a laugh behind his palm, which made Percy grin cheekily. “Come on, kiddo! Can you really blame me? I haven’t had to cook _anything_ in decades!”

“Blaming you just a bit,” Izuku said, his words stifled by his hand clapped on his mouth. “How about I teach you how to make katsudon? It’s one of my favourites.” Percy nodded immediately, seemingly committing the information to memory, to Izuku’s on-going surprise.

Izuku stood and walked over to examine the assortment of ingredients placed haphazardly on the counter. With just a glance, he could tell that Percy didn’t have a _clue_ what he was doing. Chuckling softly, he pushed away the unnecessary items and laid out what was needed for katsudon on the counter. Thankfully, the kitchen already had everything he needed, and he explained the process to Percy, who listened closely.

“Preheat the oven to 400 degrees, would you?” Izuku began preparing the tonkatsu, pulling a frying pan out of a dish rack. Placing it on the stove, he poured a thin pool of oil into it, and added in the panko, swirling it above the flames. “I’ll cut the vegetables, could you prepare the cutlets?” Percy nodded, smiling gently.

As Percy sliced, seasoned, and floured the cutlets, Izuku kept an eye on the panko while he cut up some onions. After a few seconds of listening to the fire crackle, Percy spoke.

“I came to you in Dagobah because I felt your dream of being a hero sputtering out.” He kept his eyes on the meat as he spoke, but Izuku had no doubt he was wearing his 'stern' face. “Tell me why.”

Izuku gulped, focusing on the onions and his watering eyes. “Um… Well, D-dad kicked me out and he said that I – I couldn’t do it, I sho-should stop dreaming.” Percy gripped the knife in his hand a little tighter as he made cuts in the meat. “And, well – I’ve always wanted to prove everyone wrong, but I – I can’t see _how_ I can become a hero, anymore, even - even with _you_ helping me! I – it just doesn’t feel possible anymore.” Izuku confided, the knife in his hand pounding on the board as he chopped the onions, some of his anger and despair pouring into his slices.

Percy put his knife down on the counter, and turned. “Izuku.” His voice was soft, but firm. “Tell me why you want to be a hero.” Izuku looked up from the cooking board, already speaking, having answered this question a million times. “I’ve always wanted to save people with a smile, just like All Might!” The admiration in his voice was evident, but misplaced.

Percy gave him a stern look. “None of those rehearsed answers, Izuku. All Might’s legacy may be a goal you wish to attain, but why do _you_ want to be a hero?” The bluntness made Izuku pause in his chopping. “I guess… I just want to save lives. Inspire others to be better. Make people feel safe when I’m around.” Izuku looked up to see Percy staring at him thoughtfully.

“Do you need a quirk for that?”

The question came out of left-field, but Izuku knew the answer. “Yeah, you do.” He sighed.

“Why?” Percy’s eyes were tight, his brows furrowed, and he kept slipping his hands into his pockets, almost searching for something.

“Why do you need a quirk to save someone?” he repeated, and Izuku turned, sliding the golden-brown panko into a bowl as he thought of an answer. Returning to his chopping board, he spoke.

“Without a quirk, I’d just be a liability on the field. Besides, who’d look up to me?” Percy tilted his head upwards, whispering something to himself that sounded suspiciously like ‘therapist’.

“What is a quirk at its most basic form, Izuku?” he asked, after a moment, still staring upwards.

“A biological mutation that grants powers to humans.”

“Wrong. It’s a _tool_. And like any tool, there are substitutes.”

Izuku almost wanted to laugh. There was a reason Support Heroes didn’t last long in the field. Relying on a support item made them ‘situational’, and the media didn’t have a good outlook on them, pushing many out of the spotlight.

“And what about a Hero who relies on their quirk? Would they not also be situational?” Izuku really needs to stop muttering his thoughts. “Yeah, it won’t be a good habit for you to have once you’re in the field.” Percy’s eyes are twinkling, just a little bit, but his face is still stern.

"Are you going to be a hero for the media?" Izuku opens his mouth to refute, but Percy keeps on speaking, "No, you've already said why you want to be a hero. So, why not prove them wrong? Where's that bravado you had at Dagobah?" Percy has his hands crossed on his chest, leaning against the counter, and his eyes pin Izuku to the floor.

"I - I don't know." It's the truth, and Percy doesn't look too surprised, so he counts it as a win.

Percy takes a deep breath, before speaking again. “You want to be like All Might?" He nods. "I'm afraid that you’ll never be _like_ All Might, Izuku.” The harsh words shock Izuku, hurting more than he thought they would, coming from Percy. “But you can be just as good, no, you can be _better_.” Izuku's mouth drops open at the pure confidence with which Percy speaks, and while he wants to refute him, to tell him that ' _Deku will never amount to anything_ ', Percy's shimmering irises leave no room for argument.

“True heroes, the heroes of ages past, never fought for glory. They didn’t fight for others. We fought for ourselves, because we knew we wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if we knew that someone was hurt, and we _could_ have stopped it. Sometimes, I feel that our motivations were misguided, but it’s too late to change the past. But what I can do is change the future, and I have a child in front me, who dreams of nothing but becoming a hero, and I guarantee you, Izuku, I will do everything in my power to make sure you achieve your dream. You will be the best hero that this world has ever seen.” Percy’s words give a little insight into the god’s past, but all Izuku can focus on is the incredible _faith_ Percy has in him. He turns away, unable to face the young god's conviction.

“I – thank you, Percy, but shouldn’t you be getting the cutlets ready?” Percy smiles softly, but he accepts the distraction without another word.

The two move in tandem, finishing up the katsudon together, although Percy does make a few small mistakes here and there. In the end, it’s comes out as a bit of a mess, but the taste is no less delectable. The pair eat together in companionable silence, although Izuku can tell that Percy wants to speak, he seems to be saving it until they're done.

* * *

By the time their stomachs are full, it’s barely past seven in the evening, so Percy and Izuku settle down in the living room, Izuku sinking into a bean bag while Percy sprawls across a couch.

“Alright, kiddo. We still need to go to the police station just to get you legally adopted, and then we can come back home and you can get some sleep, okay?” Percy’s mind is elsewhere, although he _does_ need to get the legalities over with.

“Can we leave in a bit?” Izuku asks, from his position face down in the beans. Percy’s just glad that the kid’s fine enough with him to ask for things, however small, so he agrees easily.

“Let’s talk a bit more, in that case. I’m sure you’ve got your fair share of questions about me, so go ahead.” Izuku rises from the bean bag to look at him, stars twinkling in his eyes.

“What’s the extent of your power? Since you’re a god, do you need to be worshipped in order to survive? If you _are_ worshipped, what does that feel like? Why are you the god of heroes, and what does that entail?” Izuku’s holding a notebook in his hands, seemingly manifested out of thin air. Percy elects to ignore it.

“Well, I don’t _really_ have many limits. I suppose there’s some things other gods could do that I can’t really; like stop time, make people go insane, et cetera. As for being worshipped – well, I’m not really sure. As long as it’s known that I exist, I think I’ll be fine, and even then, I probably wouldn’t die immediately. Being worshipped isn't great; it's not my thing, but I deal with it. As for why I’m the god of heroes, well, I wasn’t born a god.” Izuku’s eyes widen at that. “I was born a son of Poseidon, god the seas, and a wonderful mortal mother. However, when I was made a god, what I wanted most was for the other heroes with me to be safe, so I became their protector, the god of heroes.” Percy’s reminded of that terrible day; why couldn’t he have just said no? _**Why**_?

"As the god of heroes, living in this second age of heroes, I just help heroes out from time to time. Jumping into a fight myself would still annoy the rest of my family, despite the revisions to the laws, so I assist in small ways, tripping a villain here and there, stuff like that. Although, in truth, my domain of heroes isn't as much the public face of heroes, but the private. I help them through trauma, ease their guilt, heal them when they're suffering." Izuku wrote it all down on his little notebook, biting the inside of his cheek as he transcribed it.

After a few moments of speculation, Izuku has another question. “How,” Izuku gulps; he hopes that this isn't somehow rude, “How old are you?” Percy blinks; if he’s being honest, he doesn’t really know. “What year is it?” he asks sheepishly. Izuku looks at him with slight incredulity, before responding, “2366.”

It’s been that long?

“It’s almost September, right? My birthday just passed - I - I'm three-hundred and seventy-three years old.”

Izuku’s brows furrow and he taps his pencil against his cheek. “Happy belated birthday, but that’s sort of young, for a god, isn’t it? You were born in… 1993? Certainly before the quirk era.”

Percy laughs, “Yes, definitely before the quirk era. And yeah, I am the youngest god. I was made a god for ‘great acts of courage’ during the Second Titanomachy. The 'good old days'.” Before everything had gone to shit for him, he means. Well, he has no one to blame but himself. Maybe he could have had a happy life if he hadn’t taken godhood. Too late now.

“What was the ‘Second Titanomachy’? And what great acts of courage did you do?” Izuku was sat up, listening attentively. His small notebook already had a page full, slightly interesting Percy, although he decided he’d ask about it later.

“Well, it was a war where the Titan of Time, Kronos, rose from the depths of T- of the Underworld. He tried to destroy Olympus, overthrow the gods, and enslave humanity, until a hero managed to stop him.” Izuku sat up, his back ramrod straight, pencil blurring across his notebook.

“How could humanity not have noticed some sort of evil overlord trying to enslave us? You were that hero, weren’t you?” Izuku looked up just in time to see a dark look cross Percy’s face.

“No, no, I wasn’t.” He took a deep, suffering breath, leaving Izuku with more questions than answers and continued, “As to why mortals didn’t notice, it’s because there’s a veil between our worlds; the Mist. I’ve lifted the veil from your eyes, but other mortals won’t be able to see or notice some of the things I do, or they’ll see something else. So when I and my friends fought back against him, they usually wouldn’t have been able to even notice.”

Izuku was flabbergasted. “That’s awesome, to think something like that exists! I wonder if this Mist can be attributed as the origin of some ghost stories, and stuff! But, wait. If you fought against Kronos alongside other heroes, who were they? Were they humans?” Izuku inquired, curious to the nature of Percy’s companions.

“Well, they were like me; demigods. One mortal parent and one godly parent. You father was one too, actually.”

Izuku’s pencil's tip broke against the page. “I – what?” He looked up, his eyes wide and lips parted.

“Ah, sorry, you didn't know. Your father was a son of the Roman god Vulcan, god of fire and smiths, and he was an engineer, wasn't he? That’s why I thought that you would like the workshop; as a legacy of Vulcan, you probably have some tendency towards machinery in your blood.” Percy explained, flipping an ancient friend's gold coin across his knuckles.

“O- Oh,” Izuku managed to say. “So, you’re s-saying I’m one-quarter g-god?”

Percy chuckled, “So are most mortals, kiddo. Gods have been having kids with mortals for as long as time itself. Our blood is in most mortals at this point, although very diluted. It’s the best theory for the emergence of quirks.”

“Oh.” Izuku managed to squeak out. “So… do you have any kids?” ‘ _Wait, that was sooo rude!_ ’

Thankfully, Percy just laughed softly, and said “Nah, I don’t.”

For some reason, that made Izuku feel warm inside.

The two of them sat in silence for another few minutes before Percy spoke again.

“Anyways, we’ve spent long enough here, kiddo. To the station!” Percy stood, shaking off his jacket.

Izuku pushed himself off of the bean bag, still amazed at the fact that he was about to be adopted by Percy.

“So, car or warp?” Percy’s lips twitched and it was obvious he was trying not to laugh. Izuku had spent a fair few minutes trying not to vomit after the warp to the realtor's office.

“Car,” Izuku grumbled, heat rising in his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I managed to portray them correctly! Fluff isn't my greatest aspect.
> 
> Hopefully I got the katsudon correct, just used a recipe off the internet. As for the year being 2366, let's say about 70 years from 2000 for the first quirk, another 100 till All For One's birth (he was not a first generation quirk user, his quirk would have been useless unless quirks were relatively widespread. Unless he got the long age quirk first, which I doubt), and then AFO's about 200 years old, adding up to 370 years. So that's my interpretation of the BNHA timeline.
> 
> Next Chapter : police station, a demigod reveal, and maybe a conversation with chiron and some of Percy's godly duties once Izuku's gone to bed, although that'll probably be a chapter in and of itself.
> 
> Hope you liked it! Comment please, love y'all!
> 
> <3


	5. watch them grow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it! Please comment and criticize!

The drive to the police station was filled with endless chatter between the pair. Percy had answered most of Izuku’s questions readily, and suffice it to say, Izuku had a _lot_ of questions.

He – well, Percy didn’t speak much of his part in the ‘Second Titanomachy’, but the young god was a veritable treasure trove of information about the early quirk era, and even had a few snippets of knowledge to impart on even earlier histories, now lost to time.

The information he had on the emergence of quirks was invaluable, though some of it made Izuku sick to his stomach.

The emergence of quirks was not a happy or fun time, Percy’s memories revealed. From genocides and human experiments that Percy skimmed over as he absent-mindedly drove through the grey, damp city, he made it seem that not a single government was innocent during the chaos of the Quirk Riots.

He wasn’t really sure he was old enough to be learning about, well, _any_ of this, but Percy seemed to think so. It’s not like Izuku hasn’t been searching up and reading on global history and maybe a few conspiracies since he could use the computer, either. He’ll trust in Percy’s judgement on this.

Eventually, their conversation died down, as as the rain picked up again. Percy huffed as it did, grumbling as the sky darkened. Within mere minutes, lightning began to flash across the dark, suddenly cloudy sky intermittently, closer and louder than it had any right to be.

Percy whispered to himself sharply, “Oh, fuck off, old man.” Izuku doesn’t think he was supposed to hear that.

They didn’t say anything else, instead sitting in the silence together, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain on the roof of the car and watching the city lights reflecting brilliantly on the streets as they drove past.

Izuku – he had never liked silence.

It was _dangerous_. When Kacchan was quiet, when dad was quiet, when teachers or classmates were quiet, it was nothing but the calm before the storm. Silence was a warning.

With Percy, though, it was different. Silence was nothing _but_ silence. It was just a short lull in their conversation; it held no promises of pain, no hidden tidings of any rising anger. Not even a full day of knowing each other, and Izuku was certain that Percy would never purposefully hurt him. The older man, well, _god_ , was already acting like… like what Izuku had always wished his own father would act like.

Someone who would reassure him and help him follow his dreams. Someone he could trust. Someone he could rely on.

If he was being honest, Izuku still had a sliver of fear spiking through his heart that he’d wake up from this dream, back at Dagobah in the dreary, cold morning rain. Sat on a pile of trash, knowing that was all he was obliged to, going insane and imagining a release that didn’t exist.

He’s jolted from his irrational fears as Percy pulls into a parking lot, slowing down and parking haphazardly in a corner.

Opening his door, he said, “Well, kiddo, we’re here.” Stepping out, he lets the rain drench him, shutting the car door quickly.

Izuku unfastened his seatbelt and steps out of the car as well, looking up at the Musutafu Police Station through the water already streaming down his face.

It’s a massive building, beige and brown and unassuming. The entrance is a small, bustling hall, with many clusters of hard metal seats, all filled with civilians.

Locking the car, Percy places a hand over Izuku’s shoulder, hovering like he’s not sure he should.

“Okay. Technically, I think you’re a missing child, so there’s a possibility you’ll be interrogated for a bit. Nothing too major – just a few questions about your whereabouts, they’re not gonna handcuff you or anything.” He says, ruffling Izuku’s hair softly instead.

“We’ll go in, I’ll talk a bit, we’ll see what happens. I’m not exactly too caught up on laws or anything these days, but we’ll walk out with you as legally adopted by me, alright?”

Izuku nods, and Percy smiled, his lips gently upturned and his eyes bright even under the cover of darkness.

Izuku almost laughs; he can tell that Percy’s _very_ excited.

They walk through the glass doors together. No one spares them even a glance, all too consumed in their own worries and responsibilities.

A man rushes in behind them, muttering a greeting. “Hell of a rainy day we’ve been having, eh? Three times today?” he says, before quickly slipping into the throngs.

Sighing softly and looking at the crowded room, Percy tilts his head.

“You know, police stations weren’t this crowded back in my day.” He comments quietly.

“Well,” Izuku begins, “Heroes were created to deal with the rise in organized crime, but the rise of heroes and hero society led to a decline in police funding, and a rise in petty crime. Heroes can’t be everywhere, constantly on call – there just aren’t enough, it's too exclusive. Musutafu’s police are privately funded, though. They actually manage to deal with most cases the heroes can’t.” he mutters quietly, leaning into Percy’s hand on his shoulder as they walk through the room.

“Cause’ of that, police in other cities are pretty underworked and corrupt, but in Musutafu, they’re overworked.” He gestures to the crowd around them, mostly people coming in to report small crimes that the heroes can’t – or don’t want to – deal with.

Thankfully, Mustafu’s P.D will probably be able to deal with everyone in the rooms issues. Eventually. Once they get through their near-constant backlog.

Percy shakes his head. “That’s stupid.” He sighed again. “Never thinking in the long term. Mortals are always so short-sighted, giving up what’s good for them at every turn.” He lamented, seemingly to himself.

They stood in the crowd themselves for a few moments. Percy got a lot of odd looks, but Izuku couldn’t really blame them. He had debated on telling the young god, but it was kind of funny.

Everyone else had tried to dry themselves off when they entered, but Percy was walking around dripping wet and drenched to the bone, not noticing.

Looking at the milling crowd around them, Percy leaned down to whisper in Izuku’s ear, water dripping into Izuku’s hair. “You think anyone would mind if I pushed us up the line a bit?”

Curious as to what Percy would do, Izuku shook his head. Smiling, Percy straightened, before raising his hand and snapping his fingers.

The sound should have been drowned out by the chatters of the crowd and bustle of the workers all around them, but it echoes in the room, _loudly_. No one other than Izuku seems to notice it though, until Percy speaks to one of the receptionist all the way across the room, his voice carrying in an apologetic tone.

“I’m afraid we’re your next clients, sorry.”

The man the receptionist was already speaking to backs away quickly, returning to the front of the line without any protest. The receptionist motions for them to come forwards, and they make their way through the room without anyone looking at them twice. It’s almost like they don’t exist anymore; that specific receptionist’s line is completely halted, but they don’t care _at all_.

Izuku won’t lie – that power is absolutely terrifying.

Like, incredibly terrifying.

He shakes his head; Percy wouldn’t use it for anything bad, would he?

Reaching the receptionist’s desk, Izuku examines the room closer. The receptionist is behind a long, wooden desk they shared with the others. Behind her, it seemed that the police station proper opened up, through large, wooden double doors. Leaning on the table nonchalantly, Percy says, “Alright, so I’m here to report a missing child that’s been found?”

Nodding, the receptionists gaze flicks over to Izuku, tilting her head slightly.

“Name?” she asks.

Clearing his throat, Izuku says, “Midoriya Izuku.”

Clacking away at her keyboard, she looks up, her eyebrows scrunched up, and shakes her head.

“I’m afraid no child under that name has been declared as missing.”

Izuku’s stomach sinks slightly, but honestly, what did he expect? For his own father to report the kid he kicked out as missing? Besides, it’s only been a few days.

Percy groans softly, rubbing a hand across his face. His other hand raises and waves through the air lazily, shimmering and wispy mist coming off his skin. “Let’s just skip all this, hm?” he says, pulling his hand off his face and looking the receptionist in the eyes.

The receptionist’s eyes go glossy for a moment, and she shakes her head rapidly.

“Of course, you’d like to finalize the adoption of Midoriya Izuku? You should’ve gone to the correct authorities, but we can finish it here, no worries.” She says brightly, a stark contrast to her previous, professional, stern customer voice.

Izuku blinks. He’s like, ninety-five percent sure adoptions don’t go through the police, but what does he know?

And, did Percy have to do that _again_? He’s not sure he likes it.

He wonders if Percy would stop if he asked, or would that be going too far, taking too much and giving too little? After all, he is a god; Izuku doesn’t think he’d be too keen on having a child take away his power.

As Percy nods his head, the doors behind her slam open, cutting her off abruptly. Over the desk, Izuku can see a man in a drab trench coat stomp out, his eyes furious. Despite himself, Izuku takes a step back.

He’s tall, well-built, and otherwise completely unremarkable, if it weren’t for the anger coating his features. Wearing a beige trench coat straight out of the eighties and a fedora, he’s got a hand grasping something in his coat pocket, and he’s heading in a bee-line straight for them.

Seeming to calm down as he reaches the desk, he motions at Percy over the desk. “You.” He said, his voice calm despite his flurried exterior. Around them, Izuku can see people begin to turn and watch the conversation. “If you could join me in my office, please?” he offered, pointing a _very_ accusatory finger at Percy. Izuku’s – well, Izuku’s confused. He’s been confused for a few hours, though, so he takes it in stride. Is this someone who knows who – or rather, what – Percy is?

Percy, for his part, hides his face behind a hand, muffling a soft sound like laughter, before nodding rapidly. The man turns, walking to open an unnoticed door across the room, stepping away from the receptionist’s desk. Keeping his distance, he gestures for them to follow him, and Izuku notices that his eyes never leave Percy.

Looking at each other, Percy with bright eyes full of laughter, and Izuku with a confused gaze, they follow him through long, convoluted tunnels.

Who knew the police station was this big?

Eventually, they come across a glossy wooden door no different from the dozens they’d already passed, and the man opens it for them, backing away and waiting for them to enter.

The office they enter is large and spacious, dominated by a large maple desk with documents and papers scattered across it. The walls are covered by awards, and one wall has a corkboard covered with what seem to be active cases. It’s certainly a nice place, Izuku decides; the man is important in the police station, and he’s got the feel of a detective. So far, he’d only followed him because Percy was, and he trusted Percy, but he had a strange feeling about the man.

He was proven right when the door locked behind them, leaving them alone in the room with the man. Percy stepped in front of him protectively without any hesitation, surprising Izuku. He could just see as the detective drew a long… stick from his coat.

Pointing it at the god, he commanded, “Get away from the kid.”

It was a stick.

What the hell was even going on Izuku’s life anymore?

Percy laughed softly, the beginnings of a deep laugh poking through, before being smashed down immediately. “I’m not gonna hurt him, I swear.”

Narrowing his eyes, the man continued, jabbing his stick menacingly in their direction. “Forgive me if I don’t exactly trust you – it’s obvious you’re not human, and my quirk doesn’t work on monsters.”

Behind Percy, Izuku recoils in shock. How did he know? And how dare he call Percy a _monster_? His fists ball up, and he prepares himself to speak, but Percy gets there first.

“Calm yourself, detective. Yes, I’m not human, but I think you can trust me, yeah?” Shaking his head in mirth, Percy continues. “Ah, magicians. So feisty.”

The detective’s grip on his stick tightened, his knuckles white across the wood. Izuku can tell that whatever the hell's going on in this conversation, he’s definitely not comfortable with it. He even seems… scared, almost.

Yanking gently on Percy’s long ponytail, spiralling down to almost his waist, he grabs the attention of the young god. He turns to looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “He looks kind of scared? If he knows what you are, shouldn’t you – I don’t know, explain?”

The detective’s stick almost falls out of his grasp, and his jaw opens for a moment, before snapping shut. Percy looks contemplative for a moment, studying the other man’s face, before the detective moves forward rapidly. Percy backs up, pushing Izuku further behind him until Izuku’s practically sitting on the desk, sending papers into the air.

“I don’t know what the hell you’ve done to this kid, but it’s not gonna stand.” He said suddenly, his eyes sharp and distrusting below the rim of his hat.

Percy raised his palms in front of himself, in surrender. “Egyptian magician, member of the Two Hundred and Thirty-Fourth Nome. I’m of the Greek mythos, so you have nothing to worry about.” He spews rapidly, and Izuku barely understood half of it.

The detective blinks, and his stick lowers for a second. Based on what Percy’s said, he’s beginning to think the stick’s a _wand_ , and the detective’s… a magician?

God (Gods?), he needs sleep. It’s been far too much for one day. He lowers the wand, still pointed towards them, but more open to conversation this time. Percy doesn’t move away from his position in front of Izuku, though.

“Who are you? How did you know all that?” he asked, his eyes shadowed by his massive hat.

“Well, first of all, my name’s Perseus, and I’m a Greek god,” Percy said, a laugh building in his throat. It died quickly, though, as the detective’s wand dropped to the floor with a thump. His gaze strays on Percy for a split second, before he turned to run, slamming into the door before remembering it’s locked. He ruffled his pockets, panicking and searching for his key.

Percy’s shoulders slumped, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, spreading his arms. Still jamming the key into the door, the man turned slowly, still panicked and scared.

“I swear, we have such bad reputations nowadays,” Percy complained, pulling three nearby chairs towards him with a flick of his hand. He motions for Izuku to sit in one, and he does, getting comfortable quickly. Despite the tense atmosphere, he could fall asleep here, definitely – he’s been awake for way too long. He wonders if Percy would mind if he did; the chairs were actually kind of comfortable, considering he’s been sleeping on concrete for the past few days.

Slowly, the detective sat down on the edge of another seat, twitchy and fearful.

Percy narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He said again, more forcefully.

Gulping, the man nodded.

“What’s your name?” Percy asked, reclining back in the chair.

Taking a deep breath, the detective said, “Tsukauchi Naomasa – sir, I am so, so sorry that I insulted you, and that I ran! It was an error on my part from fear, and I hope you can forgive me!” His hands are laced in the air in front of him, and his head is bowed.

Percy looked at him, his eyes roving his pleading form contemplatively. “Tell me, Naomasa, what do you know of the Greek gods, that you’d be this scared?”

Looking up, the man gulped again. His eyes flicked between all corners of the room and Izuku watched, morbidly entertained. He thinks – no, he _knows_ that Percy wouldn’t hurt him. Almost as if he can tell what he’s thinking, Percy’s gaze landed on Izuku, and he gave him a sad, regretful smile.

The detective spoke haltingly, “Well, my lord, I – I used to have a friend in the Seventy-First Nome, who accidently insulted a Greek god and died. As well, I had sensed you to be a powerful being, but I had not expected you to be,” he gulped, “a god.” Despite his fear, Izuku thinks that he’s managed to explain pretty well, although he himself is a bit more scared of his heritage now.

A Greek god killed someone for an insult? He wondered, had Percy ever done _anything_ like that?

Could he bring himself to stay with the young god if he had?

Percy hummed. “Well, you’re mostly correct,” Tsukauchi flinched, “but I’m telling you, I am _not_ that kind of god. Also, I’d like to know which god – perhaps you can tell me, later.” Percy tilts his head, appraising the detective. “Pretty brave of you to take on a ‘powerful being’ all on your own, though.” He paraphrases. “I haven’t kept up with the Nomes in the past few years; who are you?”

Sitting up straight and proud, he replied, “I’m the director of the Japanese Nome.”

Izuku nods to himself; that does sound like a high-up position.

“Interesting,” Percy says, “and which god’s path do you follow?”

Some of his previous bravado having leaked back into him, Tsukauchi scoffed. “I follow the old ways.” He said, pride evident in his tone.

Percy laughed again suddenly, the sound filling the room for many seconds. Wiping his eyes, he says, “Ah, I remember when following the path of the gods was the _new_ way for the Egyptian side of the family. I wonder what the Kane’s are up to – I should visit soon.” He reminisces, staring up at the ceiling. Lazily, Izuku pokes him out of his memories - he has the feeling he’ll be doing that a lot.

Startling, Percy sits up and says, “Yes! Oh, right! Uh – help me adopt this kid!”

Tsukauchi blinked, returning to the façade of a normal detective instead of the fear filled, or the menacing magician.

“Come again?”

“You heard me the first time,” Percy said, leaning forward and placing his hands under his chin.

“Um, well, I – what? You – you are a god, right?” he said, his eyes flicking between the two. They stay on Izuku for a few moments, but he can't bring himself to care - he's too busy resisting the urge to yawn.

“Yes. My name is Perseus, and I am the god of heroes, loyalty, et cetera, and I would very much appreciate it if you could help me out, here.”

The detective jolts up, and Izuku leans back. It seems like he’s going to help; that’s good. Percy’s pretty persuasive, anyways. He closes his eyes, giving into their heaviness, and shifts to get more comfortable in the wooden seat.

When he opens his eyes again, he’s swaddled in blankets, on a massive bed. Through bleary eyes, he recognizes it as _his_ room, in _his_ house. Groaning softly, he turns to the other side and promptly falls back asleep.

Miles away, a young god walks up to Camp Half-Blood for the first time in a decade, or even longer. He doesn’t really know, anymore – all he knows is that it’s not how he remembered it. Not at all.

He wonders if Chiron missed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, we'll be getting more into the godly side; Percy will meet up with a few characters from the books, Chiron, Grover, etc.
> 
> Hope you like it so far! Sorry it took so long, I've been working on school, and then Wolf of Rome's got me hooked; written like 15k words for that fics second chapter and idk if its even halfway done with the prologues plot.
> 
> Comment any and all constructive criticism, thank you for reading!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it, please comment!


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